


sure and steady

by lesprita



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16126865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesprita/pseuds/lesprita
Summary: Of course Bucky made it, Sam thinks to himself. If anyone can survive a fight as fucked up as this, it’s him.





	sure and steady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scriba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scriba/gifts).



The causality list could have been much higher. That’s what T’Challa tells him, though Sam doesn’t miss the tightness in his voice as he says it or the stiffness in his posture when he looks at the wreckage left at their wake. It could have been higher, yes, but it’s hard to imagine with so many tents set up all across the battlefield. Tents for the wounded and tents for the dead.

It’s where Sam finds Bucky sitting on a cot, in an almost sweltering tent full of injured soldiers. He’s not looking too worse for wear, not even hooked up to an I.V, though his vibranium arm is scuffed to hell and his other arm is wrapped in gauzes. There’s a hydro flask in his hand, top opened, and a foam cup filled with ice cubes on a stool. Sam pauses at the foot of his bed, considering.

Of course, Bucky doesn’t notice him at first. Sam rolls his eyes; a hostile can’t even _breathe_ in his general direction without Bucky knowing, but out of the fight? Forget it. Two nurses in white rush by before Bucky finally looks up.

It’s quiet for a moment, other voices muting out. Of course Bucky made it, he thinks to himself. If anyone can survive a fight as fucked up as this, it’s Bucky Barnes, but seeing him alive and only battered is a weight off his shoulders. It’s Sam who breaks the spell because Bucky still looks surprised and seems content to stare at him all day.

“Knew your brooding ass made it,” Sam says not unkindly, adjusting the canvas satchel on his good shoulder. If it’s a deflection from what he really wants to say, well, he opts to smirk instead of voicing it. “Anything serious?”

“Nah,” he replies, thumbing the top of the flask shut. Strands of his hair falls over his face and he absently pulls it behind his ear. “But they want to check me anyway. It’s a waste of time.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Bucky gives him a once-over. “You?”

His own wounds aren’t bad enough to warrant a longer check-up. Unlike Rhodey at least, who has a grade-two concussion, but Sam did make a bad landing during the fight and his body is now kindly reminding him he’s not a twenty-year-old enlistee anymore. “I’m good,” he says, with a shrug from his good shoulder.

A few medics rustle past Sam and since the path is narrow enough as is, he elects to sit at the foot of Bucky’s cot and out of everyone’s way. He’s been feeling like this for a good while now––clumsy, effectively useless. All his expertise in first aid has been rendered unnecessary in the face of brilliant workers, but Steve insisted on helping T’Challa in any way they can. Which is why Sam volunteers to make quick deliveries of supplies to tents on call for them.

Sam looks at the tended injured soldiers on the other futons, bloody and bruised, and he can’t help thinking, _we screwed up_.

“What happened to the robot?” Bucky asks, eyes trailing over the rushing Border tribe soldiers and civilian personnel. It takes a weird minute for Sam to realize who he meant.

He frowns. “No one told you about Vision?”

Bucky simply stares, waiting.

“He…didn’t make it,” Sam replies. It’s strange saying it out loud, like maybe it didn’t happen if he didn’t say it. He wasn’t friends with the guy, but they were on the same team if only on different sides. What badgers him the most since he found out they lost is how he could have prevented Vision’s death. If he was faster, maybe he could have reached Steve’s team in time? But that would have left Rhodey alone in aerial combat, which could have led to a something worse than a concussion. Each scenario lingers at the back of his mind like a bad radio song. He rubs his eyes, fatigue finally catching up with him.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, after a long pause.

Sam shakes his head. “It’s, uh, fine. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Bucky thumbs open the flask, lifts it as if he’s about to take a drink but stops. He considers Sam, this time longer than Sam can politely ignore.

“What?” Sam asks, wary.

“Are you supposed to be somewhere?” Bucky asks and the change of subject almost makes Sam laugh. Almost.

“Oh, I’m boring you now?” Sam leans his arm on the bed, his hand dipping on the surprisingly soft mattress. He’s not so much offended as he is impressed, for it only took a couple of minutes for Bucky to get bored of this conversation.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky moves and then he’s sitting knee-to-knee with him. He smells too strongly of iron and Sam can almost taste the blood in his mouth. But what bothers him more now than the blood and the guilt is Bucky’s hair. It’s mussed and in his eyes again and Sam doesn’t know how Bucky can stand it. Without thinking, he brushes the strands behind Bucky’s ears, slick with sweat.

Bucky blinks and if the touch is too intimate or sudden, he doesn’t react or say anything about it. Instead, his eyes shift and he lifts his flesh hand, slowly touches a dark purple bruise along Sam’s jaw. The tips of his fingers are cold, and soothing to the touch. From the ice cubes in the cup, probably.

“You got checked out, right?” Bucky’s voice is too low for any pass-byers to hear over the tent’s animated chatter.

“I already told you I’m fine,” Sam reminds him, softly, eyes closed. “I’m not a stubborn-ass like you.”

Two heartbeats later and Sam’s feels warm pressure against his forehead. Bucky’s head against his. It’s entirely too hot for the skin contact, sweaty and lukewarm, but he couldn’t care less. He takes Bucky’s wrist, a feather light touch. He knows which vein to feel for a radial pulse, an index and middle finger to find a heartbeat as sure and steady as his own.

Bucky’s eyelashes flutter against his. He pulls back, and promptly  _takes_ his satchel.

“Hey–!” Sam starts, trying to stand at the same time as Bucky, but is gently yet firmly pushed back by his forehead. If anyone notices, they politely pretend not to.

“Where are you supposed to deliver these?” Bucky asks, looping the strap of the satchel on his shoulder.  

“To the next tent over, Bucky, give that back.” He’s trying to sound firm, glaring, but he doesn’t get up.

“I need something to do,” Bucky says a matter-of-factly. He doesn’t smirk, but Sam can hear it in his voice and it would be grating if the circumstances were different. “I need a break from my break.”

This time, Sam does laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “What?”

“Let me take these,” Bucky replies, already walking away with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be back.”

Sam stares after him for a long minute, long after he walks into the sunlight, then lays on his back, sweeping an arm over his eyes. Just for a few minutes, Sam tells himself. Just until he comes back.


End file.
